


lucky girl

by ConvenientAlias



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Sexual Coercion, Sexual Harassment, doesn't actually get that far but it's uncomfy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 08:03:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17524931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConvenientAlias/pseuds/ConvenientAlias
Summary: The director has his eye on Christine. Christine should probably just go along with it, right?





	lucky girl

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following prompt on the POTO Kinkmeme:  
> https://poto-kink-meme.dreamwidth.org/660.html?thread=4756#cmt4756
> 
> I hope I more or less did it justice?

When the director asks her to have dinner with him that night, she supposes it must be because he wants to discuss the show with her, perhaps critique her dancing—she knows she’s better at singing, and she’s seen the way he watches her while she dances, all too intent. She supposes it will be an awkward evening, but one she can handle. It’s Meg who lights the first spark of doubt.

“Lucky girl,” she says, “how did you get his eye on you? Well, I suppose it’s because you’re new. If you’re his new favorite, things are bound to go well with you.”

“Oh. Do you think he likes me?”

Meg gives her an incredulous look. Several obscene comments later, Christine has a slightly clearer idea of what to expect from the evening.

She considers, as she changes, whether she should back out, make her excuses. But the director has such sway over casting—over what ballet girls are kept from show to show even—she can’t be… rude. At least the dinner. And… she considers further. They say Carlotta Giudicelli slept her way into her current position. They say La Sorelli did the same.

She’s always wanted to be like La Sorelli. It’s… well, everyone assumes ballet girls are loose anyway, right? Meg doesn’t seem to think there’s anything wrong with it. And Christine doesn’t have a lover, and she doesn’t think she’s better than anyone else, and if she thinks about it, it is flattering, right?

Over dinner, she inspects the director’s face. He’s not _that_ old. He’s beginning to bald, and his skin is creased, but he’s not disgusting. She _could_ do it.

She can do it.

The conversation is enjoyable, too. He is full of praise for her singing and dancing, more, even, than she knows she deserves. She accepts it all perhaps more easily than she ought, but that only makes the conversation flow better. She has drunk half a glass of wine, but she isn’t sure she can down the rest.

She’s never done it before. How does one do it? She thinks back to ballet girl descriptions, vague images of male anatomy, some flattering and some less so. She’s heard a few talk about the director, even—mostly _not_ flattering, but no one says he’s violent or makes it hurt, and that’s good, right? She’s heard that a lot of the time it hurts.

She can feel her legs pressing together, hard, though she’s trying to relax. She sips at the wine. Ah. She hasn’t eaten much.

The director is talking about an old show, a glorious success. He transitions smoothly. “I still have signed programs in my room—signed by the diva herself, among others. You won’t see a talent like that around anymore.”

“La Carlotta comes close,” Christine suggests.

“Mm, well. There are many who come close.” The director hums, eyes playing over her face. “Would you like to see the programs? My place is only the briefest walk away—we needn’t even call a coach.”

She nods, and wonders if he can see her shaking.

It is spring, and the sidewalks have slush on them. They pick their path carefully. The director is still talking, still musing about the old days, the glory days. Still occasionally commenting on how much a gifted voice like hers brings him back, how much good it does him to see someone so young and so talented. She looks down at his groin, trying to spot the signs the ballet girls always talk about. There’s nothing visible; he catches her looking and smiles. He takes her hand and massages it, tells her it’s cold. She doesn’t know. She can’t really feel it.

She doesn’t know how to do it, how to please a man, but Meg has said all there really is to it is lying down and waiting and sometimes saying something encouraging—and, she’s said, it doesn’t really have to be intelligible, just a little moan or a sigh. Mostly men like to do it all themselves, but they want you to like it, so Christine will have to pretend to like it…

The director raises her hand to his lips. He kisses her knuckles.

It is too gentlemanly, too sweet. She snatches her hand away. She looks at him. He looks back.

Is this really what he’s asking her to do? Can a man so paternal, so calm, really be… Can he really think of her that way? And all along, watching her onstage, has he really been thinking that?

“Miss Daae?”

She finds herself shaking her head.

“Miss Daae?”

“I…I’m tired, monsieur. I think I had better go home.”

His brow furrows. “We are nearly to my place, Miss Daae. Then you can lie down for a bit if you want.”

On his bed.

“I should go,” she repeats, and she waves her hand a little and turns around and starts walking. When she hears him coming after her, still talking, she begins to run.

Later, at practice, he does not bring it up—well, not the way she thought he would. He asks her if she’s feeling better; she says yes. He asks her when they can get dinner again, and she prevaricates, and he is delighted at how “coy” she is. He talks to her whenever he can catch her after rehearsal. He praises her singing, assigns her a brief solo, talks about her "potential" and how they might work together to fulfill it. Sometimes he takes her hand—sometimes he lightly brushes against her in the hallway. His eyes are knowing. He is waiting.  
  
Sooner or later there will be a price to pay. There is a pit in Christine's stomach, thinking about how Carlotta and the rest of the cast and even Meg will react when she finally can't pay it. Thinking how they will laugh when she falls.


End file.
